A Christmas Present for Sauda
by Kyoyaisthebest
Summary: M because of slash. Merry Christmas Sauda! Btw, this is my first FF and I NEVER write slash, so please forgive the failure


I'm Moses, but I'm not that into religion. Weird, huh? Why the f*ck would you think it's weird? Just because my frickin' NAME is Moses doesn't mean I gotta be some saint! For your information, Moses wasn't even a saint. I digress. I digress often. Staying on topic is for normal people. I am too hot to be normal. I walk around with my shirt off cuz I'm sexy and I know it. Girl, just look at that body. Actually, Phoebus, just look at that body. Phoebus is my cuddly-wuddly-cutesy-bupkinz! What was I even talking about? Oh, yeah. I thought I'd tell some stories of my wild escapades. Maybe make up some words. You know, the usual fanfiction. But, because I am so awesome, the usual fanfiction is not enough to describe my awesomeness. Maybe a haiku would help:

Moses equals BAMF

I look hawt when my shirt's off

I am awesome sauce.

But then, people wouldn't understand my genius. My utter, complete, mind-boggling genius. So perhaps some fluffy slash for Sauda would be in order. Because I am her Opfer. Or is it the other way around? Speaking of the other way around, and puns I don't understand, let's get the Christmas present written. Like a baws.

Here goes:

Facilier owns all of us. We are bound to him by our blood. Our treacherous blood, red power stolen by the Other Side. The blood that rushes through me, pulses, keeping me alive in a place all alone. Separated. To break us, he said. Blank walls. Cold. Stone. Bread and water. Stale. I wonder how the others are holding up. A list of names, some other captives, scrolls through my mind: Lina, Cindy, Shang, Belle, Milo, Naveen, Jaz, Cassim, Dimitri, Phoebus. Oh, God, Phoebus. Will I ever see him again? Even more excruciating than that painful thought is the knowledge that it is my fault that Phoebus is here. If it wasn't for me, then he would be free from this madness.

It all started like it shouldn't have.

It was odd. I'd never felt attracted to anyone before I met Phoebus. I mean TRULY attracted. My family wanted me to marry this chick named Sarah. She was cute, but I noticed this only in a platonic way. Like, oh, this person is pretty but she is my relative/ already married to a guy who will beat the shit out of me if I come within 100 miles of her/ too old for me /a character in a movie, manga, anime, or book. Check that. I fall in love with fictional characters ALL of the time. Well, I really wasn't worried. Because, turns out, Sarah wasn't interested in me either (although from some of the nights we spent together –bonding, as it were- you wouldn't be able to tell in a million years that she was in love with another guy). Sarah was eyeing a young general by the name of Phoebus. In truth, once I saw him for the first time, I was eyeing him, too. I mean, the song "Your Love Is My Drug" became my theme song. There was a line that encompassed my feelings for Phoebus more than any other thing I could say: "I like your beard."

Ah. That beard still gives me shivers: A soft, golden beacon of attractiveness. So fluffy. And such a beautiful ornament on my snuggikins! I guess I was entranced by his beard and his gorgeous physique. And my shirtlessness finally paid off, because he was interested in me, too. Of course, Sarah got pissed, her parents got pissed, and my parents beat the shit out of me. Phoebus didn't tell me what happened to him, but judging from his black eye and various flesh wounds, his parents weren't happy that we found love either.

So, like every young, intelligent couple whose parents don't like their romance, we ran away. We lived together as "brothers" but what we did together was more than displays of brotherly affection. Clay Aiken, Michael Kors, and Rufus Wainwright would blush to hear how we sealed our love behind closed doors.

Slick, sweaty entrancements as we became one. Tangles of heat and passion. Blood rushing to our heads, our hearts pounding, feeling each other's heartbeat against each chest, as they echoed each other. The moments when everything was all right. God, I miss those moments.

Inevitably, it couldn't last. Inevitably, we were caught. It was my fault.

It's amazing what a slip of the tongue can cause.

It's amazing what a slip of the tongue can ruin.

It ruined me.

It ruined him.

It ruined us.

I sold myself to Facilier in an attempt to save Phoebus. He sold his soul to save me.

And Facilier sells our services.

Anything anyone wants, any urge, any desire, any whim. We fulfill.

We have no choice but to obey.

Facilier has leverage on us all. He knows all of our hopes, our strengths, our weaknesses. When I was placed in the same cell as Thumbelina, she wouldn't obey. He showed her a picture of Cornelius frozen in ice. She said he was bluffing. The next day, he gave her a package. Inside it was one of Cornelius' wings, the end a bloody stump. She never spoke out again. I shudder to think what he would do to Phoebus.

Facilier has gotten meaner, too, and I fear every moment for Phoebus' life. He is what keeps me going. Lina used to ask me about him, about our relationship. There was nothing to hide from her, so I told everything. It felt so good to confide in someone who knew the torturous throws of separation the way I did. Someone who cared so deeply about another. Someone, who at the core of things, was just like me.

Were any of us different? We all loved, we all hated. We all hid our true selves. We all sacrificed what we loved most for the one we loved most. And I think we would sacrifice anyone and anything to be back with the one we truly cared for. Lina became like a little sister to me, but she wasn't worth as much as Phoebus in my mind. In truth, had Facilier told me to kill Lina in order to see Phoebus again, I would have done so without hesitation. If he had asked me to dismember Cornelius in front of her, and lock her in a room with only his remains, I would have done so with a smile, if only to touch Phoebus again, to be engulfed in his warm caress. I guess that is true love: being willing to destroy as many other lives as it takes just to be with the one who completes you. Or maybe that is the cynical view Facilier has pounded into me.

There is a sharp edged rock on the floor of my cell. I carve in my language. I write to the gods. I beg them to let me be reunited with Phoebus, to be free, to go back to the way things were before.

A rat rustles in the straw that is my bedding. Its beady eyes glare red, reflecting torchlight. It shrieks angrily, and leaps to bite me. Instinctively, I flinch and try to dodge. Something whizzes past my ear, whining, like a mosquito. Something warm oozes on my leg. I open my eyes to see the rat, skewered by a dagger, its life's blood leaking onto my garment.

"Moses!" A whisper, harsh. Familiar.

"Phoebus?"

The lock jiggles, clicks, and the door opens. I fall into his strong embrace. His fingers trace my ribs, sticking out like daggers from my emaciated frame. It has been months since I last saw him, but it feels like centuries. I trace the unfamiliar familiarity of his jaw line. I catch sight of a man standing next to him, in pirate's garb.

"Moses," breathes Phoebus, "This is Sinbad. He broke us out of here."

Instantly, I am suspicious. If there is one thing I've learned in my months of captivity, it's that everything has a price.

"At what cost?" I demand, my voice soft as cotton, but sharp as steel.

Sinbad half-smiles. "All I want," he says, "is Sarah."

I look at Phoebus questioningly.

"Sarah's in Syracuse. Sinbad's taking us there, as long as I convince Sarah that he's better for her than I."

I wonder if Sarah will agree, but then I take another look at Sinbad. She'll agree.

We flee into the night, silent as a dream, escaping a nightmare.

On board the ship, Sinbad shows us to a large, private chamber. Winking, he says to me, "I'm sure you two have a lot to discuss."

He closes the door behind him.

Phoebus finds the bath chamber, and once he is through, I follow suit, washing away months' worth of grime and grit away.

Oh, gods, it feels so good to be clean. A towel around my waist, I leave the chamber to the bedroom, where Phoebus is waiting for me.

I want to hold back, to show I'm strong, but I can't. I rush into his open arms.

My tears wet his cheeks, and his mingle with mine, tears of joy.

"God, Moses," his hand cradles my gaunt cheek, "I thought I'd never see you again."

His heart beats against my chest. I feel my pulse start to match his, speeding up with adrenalin and anticipation.

I answer with my mouth, not as words, but as a light kiss.

His mouth gropes mine, and any words we might want to say are lost in the heat of passion.

We hold hands as we become one.

_End_


End file.
